We have no pictures from this show. Sorry. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find photos of Johnston playing? It's amazing, really. Oh well.

Unfortunately, I missed the opener, Bingo Gazingo, but I'm told he banged on a broken plastic toy guitar and sang poetry. Oh well.

Diane Cluck could kick Sarah McLachlan's ass. Favoring haunting, delicate vocals full of underlying strength and passion, she's a '60s folkie for the naughties. Not only is she a virtuoso tunesmith, alternating between acoustic guitar, piano, harmonium, castenets, reed organ, copperphone and zither, but she has a cool, beautiful femme voice. Cluck's poetic lyrics and evocative tunes betray melancholy and longing, and the lyrical phrasing and playing are nicely aligned. Tonic was pretty packed for her set -- I know it's a cliché, but you really could have heard a pin drop. And that's something, because New Yorkers like to talk. LOUD. We were amazed how talented this chick was. But would you really want to buy her CD and listen to it at home -- in a bad mood, on a bleak day? Well, at least you'd have a pretty soundtrack for your suicide. Did I tell you she could kick Sarah McLachlan's ass?

Clem Snide, who appear on Daniel Johnston's soon-to-be-released Hyperjinx Tricycle CD, were stripped down for this show, with only two members present -- Eef Barzelay on acoustic guitar and Jason Glasser on cello. When they started playing a slow, sad number, I thought, "Oh nooooo, no more sad songs!" They faltered a little at the beginning of their set, when they weren't playing original tunes, but redeemed themselves by announcing, "Alright, we're gonna move into some songs we know!" and launching into "Junkie Jews." There was lyrical reference to Corey Feldman that I can't remember now, though it was fucking hilarious, but the chorus went "Junkie jews, they've got so much to lose."

Barzelay has a great, strong voice; he sounds slightly gritty and nasal, with the kind of voice you'd like to have sing you to sleep, if you're a girl. And if you're not, well, it rocks, too. The Johnston-penned tune, "Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Your Grievances", along with the Snide original "Junkie Jews" were the strongest songs of their set, though the whole thing was pretty damn good. Clem Snide are best when they start off slow and pick up speed and Barzelay gets loud, gritty and emotional. Um, can I please have a CD for bedtime?

Daniel Johnston, in trademark t-shirt and sweats, stood before the podium and sang lyrics from the stand, gripping his acoustic guitar tightly and strumming furiously. Playing rough and tight, when Johnston sang the first lines of Rejected Unknown's "Th'Spook" -- "Well, the message to all you hicks out there" -- in his sweet, gentle voice, the "hip" New York audience erupted in laughter. "Love is alive. God is alive. God ain't no jive," he sang with passion and conviction. The crowd, illuminated by the light from a video camera (documentary footage was being shot), loved his sad and quirky songs. "Here's a song for all you love-birds out there," Johnston said, introducing "Love Will See You Through." More laughter. My friend Alison turned to me and smiled. "Aren't all his songs about love?" But Johnston was at his best with his quirky, almost doo woppy love songs.

There seemed to be a sense of community that night at Tonic, like you'll find in a movie theatre when you are watching a really great movie that everyone relates to on a certain level. His show was far more fascinating than a bunch of "rock stars" jumping around on stage, but I think the audience distracts Johnston. His lyrics are so simple, child-like and innocent, that you feel as if you're peering into his private world and seeing a faint reflection of yourself.

"I just gotta get a drink," Johnston said, reaching for a glass of water. A handful of people clapped and cheered. Someone yelled "Freebird!" from the back of the house. Johnston ignored him and launched into the next song, singing "The rabbit ate the chocolate rabbit." Everyone cheered.

Johnston played a couple more songs, after which his guitar went out of tune. "I think Adolf Hitler is against me tonight. And I've been on his side all these years," he joked. He tried to tune his guitar, but couldn't get it right. The show was over. "NOOOOO," the crowd protested loudly, as he walked to the side of the stage and put his jacket on. Johnston went back to the podium and sang a short, chilling a capella song, hands in his pockets. As Johnston prepared to leave the stage again, his manager, Don Goede, jumped on stage, tuned the guitar and handed it back to him. As Goede was tuning the guitar, Johnston told a story about a man who was sentenced to death for commiting suicide. He played a few more songs, and then finished with "Casper", saying "I'm all out of songs. Sorry. Next time I'll come back and play more. Thanks a lot for coming. I love New York!"

Article by Trinity Canty.